


you've made me blue

by hotmess_ex_press



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: Break Up, F/F, Getting Back Together, Growing Up, Light Angst, pls ignore the sudden changes in tone, this feels a bit sloppy i hope it's okay :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotmess_ex_press/pseuds/hotmess_ex_press
Summary: Lisa is awake, awake enough to roll over and draw Jisoo into her arms, breathe in the cherry-blossom silk of her hair like she did every night when they were younger. But she doesn't, she just can't. Jisoo falls asleep facing Lisa's back, and Lisa barely sleeps at all.Morning comes and Jisoo's lips press to Lisa's temple. Lisa avoids her gaze, smiling hollowly.
Relationships: Kim Jisoo/Lalisa Manoban | Lisa
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	you've made me blue

**Author's Note:**

> it's been over a year so the prompter, cherrygloss, might not even see this :( i'm truly sorry it's taken so long, i got stuck in a bit of a rut over the last year. if you do see this, thank you so much for the prompt and i hope it meets your expectations, albeit belatedly <3
> 
> enjoy!

Lisa is feeling so fucking _restless_.

Her knee bounces furiously against the underside of her desk. Ripples jump in the murky brown coffee she had unceremoniously sloshed into a cardboard cup earlier, placed beside one of the now-dry doughnuts Hoseok had brought in. _It's Friday_ , he had cheered, eyes crinkling up kindly, and it would be a sin not to smile back. Lisa figures the entirety of her daily allotment of energy went into mustering a responding grin, because it sure isn't flowing into deciphering the endless, mind-numbing strings of numbers flashing across her screen.

The cup is drained. Lisa tosses it into the wastebasket, where it rattles around the metal rim. Droplets of watery caffeine splash across the paperwork Lisa hopes she won't need later.

Lisa spins circles in her chair and watches as the hands of the clock tiptoe around its black and white face, seconds dragging themselves over the hurdle each tiny black mark makes. The almost imperceptible ticks feel like a handful of nails, driven into her skull one after another by the grating movement of time.

Fifteen minutes before she gets to leave, Lisa stretches to her feet and slowly makes her way to the bathroom.

Her eyes glaze over as she's washing up, staring at herself in the mirror. She doesn't think, just watches herself. New lines forming in the creases of her eyes vaguely register, but are quickly dismissed. The crisp ivory of the shirt Jisoo had lovingly ironed days ago has wilted, drooping around the neck. Lisa moves to grip the cold porcelain of the sink, head swimming. Water drips from her skin to the fake leather toes of her work shoes. They were on sale, twenty percent off from the department store. Lisa had wanted to buy the sweater Jisoo was longingly lingering over, a pretty sort of sunset purple, but they didn't have enough money for both.

Jisoo caught her wrist as she tried to swap the shoes for the sweater, said _this is more important_.

Lisa snaps out of the haze of exhaustion and memories when someone slams into the restroom and heads for a stall. She hurriedly shakes the water from her hands, wiping the excess on the thighs of her worn-thin jeans ( _casual Friday_ ) and heading out again. It's three minutes to five, a respectable enough time to pack up.

Their car takes two tries before it sputters to life, a cherry red thing that sixteen-year-old Lisa was unthinkably proud of but twenty-four-year-old Lisa desperately needs to fill up. She calculates one and a half more trips to and from work, running on drips and fumes. They can deal with it on Monday.

She flicks through every radio station twice, unreasonably frustrated by the static prickling through most and the tactless love songs filtering through the others. The radio is slammed off in irrational anger. Lisa makes the rest of the trip home in silence, swinging into their parking spot and killing the engine. The elevator is broken again, so Lisa trudges up the stairs, can't help the bitter little _home sweet home_ that sounds out in the back of her mind when she punches out the passcode and stumbles through their front door.

The 800-some foot apartment smells of clean laundry. There are exactly three pairs of shoes stacked by the door: the mint green slip-ons Jisoo wears during shifts at the pub and while running errands, some scuffed flats she hasn't stepped into since her sister's wedding, and a pair of spotless sneakers left over from Lisa's dancing days. Her loafers are kicked off and added to the pile.

They don't have much furniture, but it's immaculately kept. No thanks to Lisa. She slings her messenger bag over the couch's arm as Jisoo wanders in from the tiny kitchen, flicking the lights on as she enters.

Lisa smiles wearily at the chaste kiss Jisoo presses to her cheek. "Dinner's almost ready," Jisoo whispers, so unfailingly soft Lisa aches just thinking about it.

The coffee table still bears the marks of a rushed breakfast, two plates flecked with toast crumbs and grains of salt, rings of almond-sweetened coffee left by matching mugs. Lisa gathers up the dishes as Jisoo walks in with two bowls of fried rice and a dish of canned fish. They eat cross-legged on the hardwood floor in lieu of a proper kitchen table. Jisoo asks about her day, Lisa lies with her lips stretched tight and plastic to bare her teeth. There's a mutter about the food somewhere. Jisoo talks about her sister's new job.

Eventually, Jisoo sets her chopsticks down with a sigh. She's looking at Lisa, eyes muddled and heavy with a sadness Lisa is too tired to even try to comprehend now.

"I'll do the dishes," Lisa offers. Jisoo's lips curve into a gracious little smile, and she shakes her head, already standing.

"Go shower," she orders gently.

Lisa frowns, hesitating. She can almost feel the warm water running over her shoulders, smell the shea butter steam curling around her. Still, she feels guilty. "If you're sure..."

A tender brush of Jisoo's lips over hers suspends any complaints. "I'm sure."

Lisa stands under the scalding water, head tipped back, eyes closed, until her skin is an angry red, and then scrubs it until she burns all over. Her hair drips strawberry-scented puddles onto the slick tile, and she avoids glancing at the mirror.

Curled under the covers, Lisa can hear the muffled drama playing from Jisoo's laptop, some dreamy slice-of-life about a heroine living alone in 2,000 feet of glossy apartment in the city. Lisa screws her eyes shut, tugging the sheets over her head.

Sometime around eleven, Jisoo slips into bed. She smooths loving fingers over Lisa's cheek, exhales lightly, then turns so her back faces Lisa. Lisa is awake, awake enough to roll over and draw Jisoo into her arms, breathe in the cherry-blossom silk of her hair like she did every night when they were younger. But she doesn't, she just can't.

She counts Jisoo's breaths until they even into a calming rhythm. She wonders if she's ever felt this fidgety, yet so fucking _empty_ , in her life.

Childhood was good to Lisa. She had tassels on her bike handles and scraped-up knees from trying to ride backwards. On her bedside table there was a book of fairy tales with illustrations done in simple lines and childish colors; a plastic figurine of a ballerina; a mug, patterned with cartoon cats, full of warm milk, depending on the time of day; and a squat little piggy bank rattling with the coins Lisa found and plucked from between the sidewalk cracks. If she managed to gather enough, she would pile the coins onto her bedroom floor for her mother to exchange for wrinkled bills, which were promptly spent on flashy comics she read by flashlight, stashing both book and flashlight beneath her blankets if she heard her parents outside her bedroom door. If she didn't gather enough to exchange for cash, the gritty coins were traded for hard candies at the sweet shop downtown. Strawberry, unless there was a lucky pineapple about, and always one grape candy for Jisoo.

"I don't actually like grape that much," nine-year-old Jisoo enlightened a Lisa still reeling from the pains of first grade, "just the color."

Jisoo, her beloved neighbor, striking the perfect balance between overprotective older sister and giggly best friend. Lisa bought chocolate bars for them to split, after that.

Once, Lisa watched her parents fight. She peered in from the door of the kitchen, blanket clutched around her shoulders and eyes wide. She had never seen adults yell like that. Something about money and love.

"Papa, is she coming back?" Lisa asked after the sound of the front door slamming faded from her ears.

He looked at her for a while, then sighed. She came forward and clambered onto his lap, blanket pooling at his feet. Hugging her closer, he nodded. "Yes, she always does."

Her brow furrowed. "Always?"

His chuckle vibrated from his chest: a comforting, deep, rumbling sort of thing. Lisa giggled back. "Every time. And when I'm the one leaving, I come back too. That's what good love does. The day she doesn't come back, I'll know our love wasn't strong enough."

Teenage Lisa bought ear piercings that she eventually had to take out once they got infected and bags of vinegar potato chips with the money she earned walking dogs and running errands for the uncle at the sweet shop. She danced the soles of her sneakers away and Jisoo likened her to the fairy tales she used to love so much.

Jisoo's legs grew long and shapely. She grew her bangs out to reveal a friendly smile and pretty eyes. Lisa's legs grew even longer, and lean from all that dancing. She felt tall and important in the passenger's seat of Jisoo's mother's car, Jisoo at the wheel and softly singing to the radio. She heard whispers in the ninth-grade hall that there wasn't a boy in town who hadn't been kindly rejected by Jisoo.

Lisa slept in Jisoo's bed more often than her own, among boxes of prepackaged brownies, geometry homework, and flannel pajamas as Western romcoms flashed across Jisoo's computer screen. For her seventeenth birthday, Lisa let herself kiss Jisoo under the fluffy purple blankets of her bed, cornerstore chocolate on their lips. She didn't expect Jisoo to kiss back, but that made it all the sweeter.

When Jisoo lingered in their little town for two years after she graduated, washing dishes at the quaint restaurant down the street, Lisa didn't flatter herself by thinking it was for her.

That flew out the window, however, when Jisoo stepped out of her house with a suitcase and backpack the day after Lisa's graduation, shoving her luggage in with Lisa's in the trunk of the cherry-red car. Turning around and bumping her hip against the passenger door, smiling at Lisa with all the warmth of the flaming sunset in her eyes.

"You don't think you're getting out of here without me, do you?" Jisoo had teased, and Lisa was in love.

On Saturdays, Lisa drags herself out of bed when she hears the shower turning on. Jisoo always liked eating together.

Lisa pulls two stale slices of bread from their crinkly plastic package and presses them into the toaster. She sets a pan onto the burner, sharp _clang_ cutting through the peaceful bubble of coffee into pot and buzz of early commuter traffic. The sizzle of eggs in the pan joins the precarious morning harmony.

Jisoo is singing in the shower again.

Fingers curling tight around the spatula in her hand, Lisa lets her eyelids slip lower. She sways slightly as Jisoo's voice trembles into the kitchen, fragile, so fleeting. Lisa can almost hear each droplet of water crashing all around Jisoo, drowning out the unsteady rise and fall of her song. A lyric pushes through. Lisa strains to catch it all; the almost strangled tone of Jisoo's voice doesn't help. She knows this song from somewhere, some _when_.

(They're sitting on the blue-striped sheets of Jisoo's childhood bed. Jisoo fiddles with the buttons of her CD player, eyes still red. Lisa sits with her knees pushed up under her chin, watching, waiting. Not quite sure what to do with her limbs or Jisoo's tears. The first notes ring out into the silent bedroom. Jisoo lets the song crescendo through the first verse before speaking.

"I really thought we'd work out," Jisoo murmurs, mapping circles on her pillowcase. Lisa's hands twitch to grip hers. "We were so happy. It felt safe."

The chorus swells.

"This was our song," Jisoo remarks, "but I liked it before and I'll like it now."

Two more verses. The bridge fills the room with lonesome, bare lyrics. Lisa fidgets through a repeat of the chorus, and the song is fading out.

"No matter," Jisoo wipes her eyes and smiles. Lisa can't tell if it's genuine or not, but either way it's beautiful. "I'll find someone else to work out with."

Jisoo breaks off her relationship, gently, but cleanly, the next day.)

From the way she takes her coffee to the way she loves, Jisoo is predictable, a creature of habit. It only makes sense that this relationship would mirror the pattern of her last one, subtly, bitterly. This is what Lisa should be thinking about, but instead, she can't stop wondering when Jisoo's voice lost its utter sweetness and gained its faint edge of guttural desperation. Like something half-dead and unrecognizable is crumbling on the broad side of her tongue--

"Lisa!"

She's brought back to the present by Jisoo's surprised shout and the smell of burning food. Lisa drops the spatula and clumsily drags the pan off the burner.

"Shit, Jisoo, I'm so sorry--"

Jisoo nudges her away from the stove, hand almost warm against Lisa's hip before drawing away quickly. "It's okay, don't worry about it."

Lisa stares. Two years ago, one year ago, maybe even months ago, Jisoo would have laughed at her, and Lisa would have pouted, and they would have poked at the remains of breakfast together, and when they kissed it would have been bitter from the charred food, not from the cold and ugly tension they can't seem to shake off lately. Did it change recently, this shift in dynamic, or has it been simmering beneath the surface since they were first falling in love, finally emerging in painful moments and hefty silences?

Breakfast is bland and bare, a slice of toast each. Jisoo will barely have enough energy to make it through her double shift, and it's Lisa's fault. It seems like Lisa is only good for one thing lately, making Jisoo's days a little harder.

Their car breaks down. "Let's just let it go," Jisoo suggests, and Lisa nods with the key clutched to her chest. She remembers the good times: bright towels layered across the seats after trips to the pool, so they wouldn't get chlorine on the then-shiny leather. Long rides after the sun went down, windows rolled open and Jisoo's faint smile otherworldly in the moonlight. Languidly making out in the backseat on sticky summer evenings, radio buzzing low and skin glistening with sweat. Driving away into the labyrinth of a city together, young and hopeful and hungry.

In a way, Lisa blames the city. It was supposed to open like a flower in the palm of her hand, alive with opportunity. Instead, Lisa is trapped in a cubicle where she's grown weary of asking for more only for the walls to press in a little closer, where the raises keep slowing. She was supposed to be powerful by now, with a beautiful apartment deeper into the city and a glossier red car and expensive dinner dates every other night for Jisoo. She was going to give Jisoo the purple sweater she wanted, and maybe ten more for good measure, and send her to the art school she had briefly looked into all those years ago. Maybe even welcome her home one night with a kiss and a diamond--

Lisa is stuck, in the sort of lifestyle that was supposed to be a stepping stone, an in-between.

That's how it gets you, she thinks.

While she was dreaming, rent was raising, the years were sliding away wasted, and Jisoo is growing too thin and lonely.

Lisa watches them tow her once-gorgeous cherry car away, and feels as if another chance at becoming happy again has been severed.

If she wasn't so tired, Lisa would fold Jisoo into her arms and kiss her all warm and tender, like they were breathing the past into each other. "Let's go back," this Lisa would whisper, and the red car would already be packed. "Let's forget this cold life, let's go home."

 _Home_ , where nothing would matter but the sun glinting in Jisoo's hair and which hard candy to buy, strawberry or pineapple or grape, and Lisa could fall back in love. Where she could feel a little less weighed down by guilt and apathy.

It's so potent Lisa can taste it, happiness so sweet and close it nearly clouds her vision. But Lisa is tired. And one brave movement is so infinitely harder than falling back into bed and resigning herself to feeling a little emptier when she wakes up.

Jisoo slips into bed late and Lisa can feel the space between them, heavier than the dip in the bed where Jisoo rests, heavier than the purple pooling beneath her eyes, heavier than the sigh that escapes her lips as she sits up. Cool air rushes in to fill the void yawning between them.

"Hold me," Jisoo whispers, so tired and soft Lisa can barely decipher it. "Love me, _please_. You never touch me anymore."

They both pretend Lisa is asleep. The heating system rustles.

"You never look at me anymore."

Lisa screws her eyes a little tighter, pillowcase crumpling beneath her fists. Jisoo's fingertips hover above her shoulder, brushing against her hair.

"How do I still love you so much?"

Silence expands like ink pooling across the sterile white of their sheets, saturating the air, slipping into the creases of the walls. Jisoo falls asleep facing Lisa's back, and Lisa barely sleeps at all.

Morning comes and Jisoo's lips press to Lisa's temple. Lisa avoids her gaze, smiling hollowly.

Lisa sways on the subway and thinks about summer.

A girl with a honey voice busks in the station, and Lisa turns away, dizzy with memories. She shuts her eyes, hurrying through the crowds pouring into the street, and the past fades away, slipping into the sidewalk cracks.

Back in their hometown, memories stuck. The cracks in the concrete were too full of dandelions and dry grass to hold anything else.

Lisa's heels hold the ache of the streets long after she collapses into bed.

There is a suitcase and a cardboard box stacked outside their apartment's open door. Lisa frowns, carefully pushing the door open further.

She takes her shoes off slowly, lining them into strict formation by the door. She peels her jacket off and painstakingly hangs her satchel on its designated hook, as if that will make up for years of dumping it on the nearest empty surface.

Lisa licks her lips, hesitating. "Jisoo?" she calls out.

There's silence for a moment too long. "In here!" Jisoo's voice rings out, strained for its usual cheerfulness.

Lisa drags her feet, letting the dread pool in her throat. "Jisoo?" she repeats, softer, as she gingerly steps into the bedroom.

Their room is as clean and cold as ever. Jisoo kneels in the center of the room, folding shirts into an old backpack. She carefully avoids Lisa's eye. Lisa lingers in the doorway, watching Jisoo neatly pack the last t-shirt away and zip the bag. Silence stretches painfully between them. Lisa can feel it in her chest, tight and prickling.

"You're leaving?" she finally asks. Her heart is sinking but she's not surprised: she really means, _were you leaving without saying goodbye?_ Jisoo dips her head and turns towards the bed, her blue coat draped over the headboard. She takes her time pulling on gloves, doesn't speak until the buttons of her coat are securely fastened.

"I would stay if I thought there was anything to save," she whispers, studying the seams of her gloves, before laughing quietly, lifting her chin to meet Lisa's gaze. "But Lisa, you're giving me _nothing_."

Lisa stares, and thinks of all the ways she should respond. She could argue, she could cry a little, she could kiss Jisoo's cheek and help her carry her things out. She could smile bravely and find her green scarf, the one that will clash magnificently with the faded cobalt of Jisoo's coat, and tenderly wrap it around Jisoo's neck. Say _good luck_ and _I'm sorry_. But instead she stays still and silent, until Jisoo exhales and shakes her head. _Nothing_.

Jisoo takes her bag and pauses a couple feet from Lisa. Her eyes are dull, their only shine coming from the reflection of kitchen lights in unshed tears. She looks like she might lunge forward, fling her arms around Lisa or kiss her one last time or confess something sweet and sad. Lisa holds her breath.

"My keys are on the coffee table," Jisoo murmurs, and slips past her with a shaky half-smile.

A few moments later, the door quietly clicks closed. The apartment is stunningly silent, achingly empty. Jisoo left the yellow notes stuck on the fridge, the photos taped to the window. Streamers still flutter from the creaky ceiling fan, left over from Lisa's twenty-second birthday. Lisa remembers Jisoo's arms around her, sheets pushed down to their waists and lights off as they watched the streamers flutter along to the humming fan.

She trudges to the bed and slumps onto it, facing the wall. _You should hurt a little_ , she tells herself, _wonder why it all went wrong_. But she knows why it all went wrong, and she's too drained to cry.

She turns in her two-week notice the next day. Jisoo is gone, and she's been tired.

Eight months later.

Lisa stretches her legs and spins on her swivel chair to face the clock. It's a little past nine, so she lets out a content hum and starts to shut down her computer.

The building has five studios, each painted a different shade of blue-green. Lisa's favorite is the pale seafoam studio in the back, farthest from her receptionist desk. Sometimes she stays back after her shift and disappears into the room, dancing until one or two in the morning and locking up flushed, tired, and giddy from the rush of _moving_. But it's the Friday after a long week, and Lisa is ready to grab some takeout and collapse on her couch.

Lisa locks all but one studio door and dims the hall lights. Seulgi, the owner's girlfriend, is leading the late-night barre class in the teal room, so Lisa swings by to tap on the glass and smile. Glancing up from her stretches, Seulgi grins and wiggles her fingers, nods when Lisa holds up the keys and jangles them. Slipping a light sweater on, Lisa drops the company keys on her desk and backs out of the building into the chilly night air.

Moving closer to the ocean has cleared her head. The beach is a half hour away by bus, and on breezy nights like these Lisa will catch a few tendrils of salt weaving through the clement wind. Lisa feels safe ambling through the streets at night; the sidewalks are clean, the streetlamps flicker familiarly, and everything is blue. The houses, her striped sheets and secondhand couch, the door of her bedroom. Even the sunlight has a certain coolness to it.

The city was gunmetal grey, her hometown all cherry and orange. Lisa likes it here. It's nice, gentle, not slow like back home or harsh like the city. Perfect.

She stops to get noodles at the restaurant on the corner. She pays in bills and coins and drops a tip in the glass jar. The boy at the counter smiles, polite but genuine, and the bells tied to the door handle jingle sweetly in the stillness of the streets. Lisa walks unhurried, swinging the plastic bag her food came in and delighting in the way her hair dances in the breeze.

When she gets to the boarding house, she opens and closes the door as quietly as she can. The numbers on the door are hand-painted and hang crooked, violet chipping away to reveal the grainy wood beneath. They make her smile.

Mrs. Huang is making tea in the kitchen. She peeks into the entryway to mouth a _welcome back_ to Lisa, who grins as she kicks her shoes into the closet.

The house is colorful, a little disorganized. Lisa loves it.

Her room is on the third floor. She doesn't mind the stairs anymore. She hadn't realized how much her back was hurting until three months after moving here, when it suddenly _didn't_.

The stairs creak as Lisa makes her way up, pulling out the disposable chopsticks and tearing their packaging off with her teeth. Her door sticks a little as she steps into her room. Lisa sighs into the darkness.

Lacy curtains flutter in the window Lisa forgot to close before she left for work. The glow of the nightlight in her bathroom draws a faint line across the floor, pooling in the crack between the door and the ivory tiles. Air circles around the room as a ceiling fan slowly rotates above the unmade bed. On the wobbly nightstand, there's a lamp with tassels on its shade, a fantasy novel Seulgi is letting her borrow, a little bottle of pale purple drugstore perfume, daisies in a coffee cup from the little boy who lives downstairs, and a navy blue alarm clock, which fills the room with its steady rhythm. It's _home_ , and Lisa accepts it as such.

It hits her suddenly, right in the chest. The straps of her bag slip from her fingertips, chopsticks clattering across the dark floor. Lisa almost stumbles with the force of it.

She is _lonely_.

Jisoo winces as she opens the door of her sister's house. The skin of her knuckles is dry and cracking, splitting with a bead of red in some spots. Raw from spending all day wrist-deep in soapy water. Her hands hurt to move.

Her sister is in the kitchen, folding laundry. A moth flits around the ceiling light. Jisoo spots some of her clothes folded into a separate stack and smiles with a tug of melancholy.

"Hey," she says softly.

Her sister flashes a weary grin. "Hey, you."

She folds the last pair of jeans, stands, and props the laundry basket against her hip. She's four months pregnant and it's starting to show, in the swell of her stomach and the lines around her eyes. Jisoo is happy for her. A little rueful, a little jealous, but _happy_.

"We left you some dinner in the fridge. I think I'm going to head to bed."

"Okay." Jisoo smiles wider. "Thank you, really. Sleep well."

Her sister shifts, gaze lowering. Clears her throat. "You left your phone on the coffee table again."

"I know," Jisoo confirms. She's been doing that lately. It helps her feel grounded, and she can't check her notifications while doing dishes, anyway. "Why? Did Mom call?"

"Not Mom, thank goodness," her sister laughs lightly, but she still stands stiff. "I didn't mean to be nosy, but it was ringing a lot."

Jisoo's feet hurt. She wants to sit down. Her knuckles throb, and there's an ache between her shoulder blades.

"It's Lisa."

Jisoo blinks. "Oh."

"Yeah. I left it in your room." She touches Jisoo's shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

Jisoo waits for her to leave, then exhales heavily. She drops into a chair, stretching her legs and feeling the blood rush back into her feet. _Lisa_ , she muses, and lets a wry little smile bleed across her lips.

Later, standing in the watery light of the bathroom with Vaseline smeared over the backs of her hands, she finally checks her phone. Seven calls and one voicemail. She clears the calls and leaves the voicemail unopened. _I'll listen tomorrow_ , she promises, then slips socks over her hands and falls asleep with the light still on.

The first thing Jisoo did when she arrived back home was let her sister and brother-in-law carry her bags into their second bedroom. Then she wished them goodnight, cried a little, and went to bed.

When she woke up, she went straight to her old diner.

"This place never changes, huh?" she laughs as the door swings back into its frame, bell ringing in her wake. Nostalgia washes over her, smelling of coffee and lemon disinfectant. Sunlight streams in from every window, glinting off of the yellow tabletops.

"Jisoo!" Yuno cheers, mop clattering to the floor. His hair is brown now, curling gently into his glittering eyes. Far from the frizzy jet black perm that flopped across his forehead six years ago. "Hey, bigshot! Come to rub your success in our faces? Brag about city life?"

Jisoo laughs again, letting him hug her. The chemical lemon scent is even stronger in the crook of his neck, clinging to the collar of his uniform.

He draws back and studies her, beaming. His head falls to the side. Jisoo notes his assured movements, how easily he's sunk into his bones. His eyes shine the same, but it's like looking at a new man-- _six years_ , and Jisoo didn't visit once. "Well?" Yuno tugs the lapel of her shirt fondly. "I'm anxious to hear how it's going! I always knew you'd be the one to get out of this town."

A slick needle of regret tears at her heart. "Actually, I'm looking for a job."

Yuno's features sober, but he doesn't falter. "I'm sure it's in the bag. We're always hiring." He takes her arm. "But first, coffee!"

Jisoo wants to cry. She ducks her head, smiling unsteadily, and properly threads their arms together. "Of course. It's been too long."

" _I miss you_ ," voicemail-Lisa croons. " _I miss you so much, Jisoo. Please call me back_."

Jisoo shakes her head with a smile, tossing her phone into the grass. She uncrosses her legs and eases onto her back, tipping her face to the sun. It's early September, and the heat is just short of unbearable this time of day. The grass is brown and dry, curling in on itself. The tomatoes in her sister's garden are rotting on the vine, golden seeds spilling into the dirt, baking in the insistent sun.

She misses Lisa too. Unbearably so. Her absence is everywhere. Jisoo can't remember a trip that wasn't taken in Lisa's little red car, a stop at the grocery store where she didn't pick up a pack of Lisa's favorite candies, a new year's morning not spent in bed together, trading ridiculous resolutions. She misses Lisa. _Her_ Lisa, of strawberry smiles and clumsy kisses and the hair of a princess, slipping thick and dark out of her lazy buns. Like a creature of its own when she danced, whipping behind her with every step, swirling around her shoulders as if following each hypnotizing curl of her arms. Jisoo would give anything for a kiss to the back of Lisa's neck, to brush the hair out of Lisa's face and watch her smile unfurl like a blossom in the sun.

But reality clings to her stomach, ugly and unyielding.

 _Her_ Lisa is lost.

She remembers how cold their apartment turned. Lisa's tired smiles, her loveless, _loveless_ touch. Jisoo was lonelier in bed next to Lisa than she was walking to work in the near-empty streets at six in the morning. Even the air between them was dead, some gaping emptiness their voices couldn't breach, their touch couldn't warp.

Jisoo is a romantic, but she's no fool. Their love blurred seven years and painted two cities pink.

That's good enough for her. They're so young. They have to grow, though Jisoo thinks all the years with Lisa at her side taught her to grow _around_ Lisa. There is a hole the shape and size of Lisa's left hand forever pressed into Jisoo's side. She'll wear it with pride, but Lisa was meant for better things than Jisoo-shaped indentations between each finger.

Lisa was, _is_ beautiful, raised out of a fairy tale to breathe love into Jisoo's small, safe life. But the fantasy is over, and Jisoo is okay with being home again. She's okay coming back to the diner, returning to the streets and fireflies and trees that raised her. It's where she was always meant to be, with or without Lisa. She will be okay.

Next time Lisa calls, she's ready. "Jisoo," Lisa whispers, relief cloying and thick in her voice. "I--"

"Stop, Lisa," Jisoo cuts her off with a smile. She could make any words gentle if she wanted, it's why everyone at the pub back in the city loved her. It's why she lets a little tenderness stain her voice, gripping the phone in both hands. "You don't miss me, you're just lonely. You'll find something soon, I know you will."

She ends the call and smiles again, feeling it crack and splinter around the edges. She slathers lotion on her hands and starts to get ready for work.

"I followed my girl here," Chaeyoung, who Yuno introduced as his new best friend and everyone's favorite waitress, says shyly. Her voice is pretty, cheeks glowing, eyes alight. She looks in love. "She works at the elementary school. She grew up here, but I didn't think I would like it as much as I do."

Jisoo laughs. "I like it here too. I forgot how good it feels to be home."

The alarm goes off on Chaeyoung's phone. Jisoo crooks a grin at her, and they head back to work. She slips into the kitchen with smiles for the cooks, but the cheerfulness slides from her face as soon as she reaches the sink.

Being home feels good, but it's tinted with mourning.

The whole place _reeks_ of the past. There's a snippet of someone's soul lurking around every corner, tangled in the chains of the swingset, clinging to the gutters every time it rains. She and her sister stopped by the gazebo in the park just days before, and they both got a little teary. It was where their grandparents got married, where her sister got married, where Jisoo had once hoped to get married. That's the problem with small towns, Jisoo thinks, haunted by too many old dreams and half-rotten memories.

Walking through her and Lisa's old neighborhood, Jisoo had almost choked on it. For a moment, Lisa was there and they were six and eight, dressing up as royalty to dance around the yard, blue tulle for Lisa and lilac satin for Jisoo. Ten and twelve and clambering up trees, catching bugs, picking sun-warm strawberries out of the Manoban's garden to feed to each other. Fourteen and sixteen and painting each other's toenails red on the porch, letting technicolor popsicles drip from their fingertips.

Eighteen and twenty, kissing across the front seat of Lisa's car during the sunset, ready to escape, hopeful and sweet.

Jisoo had held her breath as she hurried past their old houses. Like passing a graveyard.

She resolves to take Yuno and Chaeyoung to the park. They can feed the ducks in the little pond and walk barefoot in the grass. Maybe she can meet Chaeyoung's girl.

She might pack a lunch, and they'll eat in the little gazebo.

"Just go out with me," Yuno suggests. "I hate to see you lonely." There's a sparkle in his eyes and Jisoo can't tell if he's joking. Their legs are tangled under the table, so Jisoo foregoes kicking him for rolling her eyes fondly and taking a sip of her coffee.

"Same answer, Yuno."

"Aww," he grins, rubbing his jaw. "But it's been years! My baby fat's finally gone."

She shakes her head. "Yes, you're very handsome."

"Really, though. I don't like thinking of you, sad in that big city. I'm glad you're back," Yuno declares, leaning forward. Jisoo lets a little smile flit across her face as she lifts her gaze to him, his earnest eyes and affectionate grin. He is so familiar. Not for the first time since she returned home, Jisoo is slammed with longing. She wants to go back. She wants to be nineteen again, belting out love songs with Yuno as they closed the diner, making dinner with her mother in the sun-drenched kitchen of her childhood, slipping in and out of parties with her old friends. Where are they now? She hasn't spoken to them in years, hasn't seen them in even longer. They've all moved on, to bigger things. Everyone but Yuno.

Yuno, and now her.

"Hey," Yuno says gently, pulling her free from her whirling thoughts. "I've missed you. I've still got your back, I hope you know that."

Jisoo laughs, lunging across the table to hug him before she does something stupid like tear up. Yuno is so happy. Jisoo wants that, wants to be so pleased with the smaller things in life she has no time to regret. When she kisses his cheek, his laughter fills the whole diner with how delighted it is. "Same here."

Jisoo is helping close up when the head chef lays a hand on her elbow. "You should go on home," they hook a thumb over their shoulder. "I think someone's waiting for you."

"I told Chaeyoung not to wait up," she complains with a wry smile. "Thanks for letting me know."

She gives the counter one more wipe down, throws the last towels into the washing machine, and goes to hang her apron. The kitchen is uncomfortably humid but the nights are getting colder, so she slings her jacket over her shoulders before digging her lotion out of the front pocket.

She's rubbing the cream over her knuckles as she enters the homey light of the dining area, stilling at the unfamiliar head of sandy blonde hair hunched over in one of the booths. The person jumps to their feet at the sound of the kitchen door hissing closed.

"Lisa?" Jisoo exclaims.

"Jisoo!" Lisa's face breaks in relief.

She is different. Sun-kissed. Her jeans and sweater could be new, and Jisoo thinks the heeled boots on Lisa's feet are the most expensive thing she's seen Lisa wear. But more than that, it's like a switch has been flicked. Lisa looks a little tired, travel-rumpled, but gone is the bone-deep weariness Jisoo had been so accustomed to watching Lisa carry. There is only _Lisa_ , standing tall and graceful, shoulders strong and emptiness in her eyes replaced by a shine, a glorious brightness Jisoo never realized was missing, and it hits Jisoo with a pang of yearning, a rush of bittersweet: _her_ Lisa is back.

But Lisa isn't hers, Jisoo reminds herself, and she isn't really back.

"You dyed your hair," Jisoo points out, can barely feel the words as she speaks them, mouth too numb. Lisa chuckles self-consciously, running a hand through her ponytail.

"I did. Do you like it?"

Jisoo hates it. It's too light, too cool. It looks out of place under the diner's kindly flickering lights; it will look out of place anywhere in the quiet, sleepy town. It's a sign, icy and tangible. _Lisa has moved on_.

"You look great," Jisoo settles on. It isn't a lie. Lisa smiles, a little rough.

Over the years, Jisoo has grown good at reading Lisa, all the little tilts of her head and fluttering movements of her fingers, tugging at threads and tapping against her hips. Lisa's eyes are flickering from floor tile to floor tile, hands shoved awkwardly in her front pockets. Jisoo licks her lips, worried that Lisa will fade away in the silence, glide out of the door and into the darkness with a stiff nod, flee away from town for the last time. Jisoo runs through their brief conversation: a greeting, an idle compliment. _Is this closure?_

She pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Go for a walk with me?"

Lisa brightens, a little taller as she glances at Jisoo gratefully. "I'd like that."

As soon as the brisk night air hits her, Jisoo exhales, more at ease already. She rolls her shoulders back, smiling at the light breeze tangling in her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Lisa kicking at the grass in the sidewalk cracks. Their silence grows deeper with each heavy step, and Jisoo wonders if Lisa slows her pace to match Jisoo's on purpose, or if it was instinct from the beginning.

"You're wrong, you know," Lisa says suddenly, eyes still on the pavement. Shadows linger on her face, darkening and fading as they move in and out of the wavering circles of light the street lamps cast. "I'm lonely, but I'm lonely for you. I miss you, Jisoo."

She stops, waiting for Jisoo to notice and turn towards her before grabbing her hands. Jisoo flinches, almost drawing back. Golden light illuminates Lisa's cheekbones, the swell of her bottom lip. Her teeth shine when she speaks.

"I _miss_ you. Come back home," she pleads, and Jisoo's heart jolts. She thinks of blue sheets and purple blankets, glow-in-the-dark stickers on the edges of the ceiling and CD player singing to itself in the corner. _Home_ , she thinks for a moment, and sees the bedroom they spent years hiding from the real world in. Tastes strawberry lips and stale brownies, feels Lisa's arms around her so tight so warm they could be one, hearts beating in perfect sync. "I have a place near the ocean. You'll love it, I know you will."

Her stomach sinks.

"Lisa, you can't ask me to do that." She pries her hands away and tucks them against her sides, holding herself as she turns and starts walking again. The air feels colder now, and sinister. "This is my home. I'm happy here."

"You came with me to the city," Lisa begs, trailing behind. "Weren't you happy there?"

"I was happy because I had you, Lisa!" she spins sharply. Lisa is closer than she thought, so she backs off of the sidewalk and into the street, gazing plaintively up at lisa. "I don't _have_ you anymore."

"But you _could_." Lisa moves closer, eyes blazing. "I'll be better. We can go back to the way we were. I just need you back."

The street is eerily quiet, their voices ringing loud and too harsh. Jisoo takes a moment to breathe, feeling her grief well up in her eyes. She doesn't want to argue, doesn't think she can stand the desperate hope clouding Lisa's features one moment longer. All emotions but exhaustion rattle out from her on a low breath, lingering around them like a cruel shadow. Her words come out as a whisper.

"It took everything in me to leave you, Lisa," she pauses, unable to face Lisa's fervent stare. "I don't have what it takes to try again. I'm sorry."

The wind rustles in the trees. The trees around here are all old and twisting, roots rife with the ghosts of laughter and feverish kisses. Memories running through the ancient wood like sap.

"You don't understand." Lisa's voice breaks. "You're the love of my life."

The leaves are just starting to brown, coiling into themselves, quivering on their branches.

Jisoo reaches to press her fingertips over her eyelids. Her jacket slips from her shoulders. Lisa slowly kneels to pick it up, folding it over her arm.

"I can't see myself with _anyone_ but you." Her hair glows in the scant light. Jisoo knows if she lets herself steal a glance, she'll never be able to look away. "You're the only one."

Jisoo shudders. "You're young, Lisa."

"You're young, too," Lisa bites back. She tries to tug Jisoo's hands from her face, but Jisoo jerks from her touch. Lisa's shoulders round in, and she speaks a little softer. "I know it's you. It's _us_. Tell me you don't feel the same way."

Carefully, Lisa takes another step forward. She straightens out the jacket and delicately lowers it onto Jisoo's shoulders. Her hands travel up to curl around Jisoo's jaw. Loose enough Jisoo could lean back and break their velvet hold.

Instead, she lets her arms fall to her sides. Pushes into the warmth of Lisa's palms, eyelids lowered. "It'll be the same as last time," she murmurs.

"It won't," Lisa promises. "I'll buy a car. I'll visit you every week. Every day, if you want. I'll be better."

She steps into the street and pulls Jisoo into her arms.

Jisoo gently pushes her away.

"Let's take our time."

Lisa sucks in a breath. "Okay."

Lisa walks her home. The space between their shoulders is heavy, but neither of them say a word.

A week later, Lisa drives her new car right up to the back door of the diner. Jisoo steps out, still drying her hands on a damp kitchen towel. She keeps the door propped open with her foot so she doesn't have to come any closer. Lisa's hair floats about her shoulders today, tossed by the wind the moment she steps out of the car.

"It's blue," Jisoo notes, a little surprised.

Lisa pats the hood. "It felt more fitting."

"I miss your red car," Jisoo says, and means so much more than a paint job. Lisa smiles ruefully.

"You'll love this one. In time."

Jisoo stares down at the towel she's holding, counting threads and smiling. "Maybe."

She moves in with Yuno. He's inherited his parents' house, which he and his mother painted pink seventeen years ago. Yuno laughs about it.

It's three streets away from her childhood house. Her parents have moved away, but she sees the Manoban's car in the driveway. "They still live there," Yuno confirms as they drive past. "I'm sure they'd love to see you." Tearing her eyes away, she smiles at him and shakes her head.

Yuno carries her boxes up the stairs. They tape their work schedules to the fridge and Yuno makes her swear not to touch his waffle maker. She helps him sort through his parents' belongings. He only cries the first night, head in Jisoo's lap as she combs through his hair, humming sweetly. In the creaky old house, dust settles quickly. Every morning, Yuno sweeps as Jisoo cooks. There is always music playing.

"Let's talk payment," Jisoo brings up one evening. Yuno slurps up the last of his noodles.

"Let's not." He holds up a hand when she tries to protest. "I know you're still getting back on your feet, and I get lonely."

Jisoo helps her sister turn the guest bedroom she was staying in into a nursery. With pale green paint dripping down her arms and the autumn sun peering in through the parted curtains, she feels at peace.

At least once a week, Lisa makes the hour-long trip to visit. Sometimes they catch a movie at the little two-screen theater downtown. Once or twice, Lisa sits in a booth at the diner with fries and a shake, waiting for Jisoo to be let off for her fifteen minute break; but more often than not, they drive aimlessly, windows rolled down and one of them flicking through static-shot radio stations.

The blue car is quiet and swift, and smells like ozone. Jisoo will never get used to it.

She lets Lisa kiss her again as the end credits of an indie film blur their skin with streaks of red and flashes of white. It's cautious. Butter-soft. Lisa's fingers slip perfectly into the emptiness between hers, and Lisa brings up their hands to breathe a kiss over Jisoo's knuckles.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "About all of it."

Jisoo catches an errant tear from Lisa's cheek with her lips. "It's okay."

Lisa twists closer, sighing into the hollow of Jisoo's shoulder. She's warm, bangs brushing against Jisoo's neck. Jisoo is grateful for the armrest between them. "I've missed this, so much. I love you. So much."

"It's okay," Jisoo repeats, hand drifting to Lisa's hair. They stay like that until the theater lights flash to life one by one, then a little longer.

Jisoo can feel Lisa watching her from the other side of the porch swing, her gaze unwavering even as Jisoo neglects to look her way. The sun has just set, rim of hazy red settling on the horizon in its wake. The swing creaks slowly, and every so often one of them will give it a lazy push, and the chains groan.

When they were younger, they were never quiet. There was always something to say; an absentminded question, a teasing remark, some bubbly anecdote. When they weren't talking, Jisoo was humming and Lisa was swaying along with a tenderness in her eyes. In between moments, they were kissing, sick with adoration, laughing between hurried touches.

They sit in silence now. Ran out of things to say an hour ago. Jisoo doesn't hate it as much as she thought she might, being quiet with Lisa. She wonders if they'll get to kissing tonight. Her mouth still burns from Lisa's greeting, a _hello_ murmured right to her lips.

"Jisoo," Lisa calls out, scooting closer, wood slats shifting under her weight. Jisoo watches as Lisa takes her hand, leaning forward. Her bangs are windswept, hair twisting out of her neat braid. When she speaks, her lips are like a rose bud unfurling, tentative. "What are we doing?"

Jisoo laughs, all sweet and careful. "We're watching the sunset."

Lisa squeezes her hand. "The sun's already set," she grins softly. "And you know what I mean."

The wind stirs in and out of her lungs. "We're trying again," she whispers, eyes falling to their tangled hands. "We're... fixing what went wrong."

"For _how long_ , Jisoo?" Lisa sighs, a note of frustration in her words. "When can we just be _us_ again?"

"Lisa--"

"I want to be with you, like we were before. I want more than this, I want to wake up next to you again." Her voice rises and trembles, rises and trembles. "I don't want to fix us, I want to start where we left off."

"And whose fault is it that we left off in the first place?" Jisoo snaps, snatching her hand away when Lisa's grip goes slack. She closes her eyes, pauses and breathes, letting the tension bleed from her body. "Look, I want to be us again, too."

If she could, she'd go back in time. Kiss Lisa out of her blue funk and then kiss her out of the city, drive them away from the cold grey and endless windows, back into the languid heat of home. She would have followed Lisa to the seaside, if Lisa had asked, if she hadn't gotten so terribly distant. She blames herself for not trying harder to ground Lisa, for not speaking up as the curve of Lisa's smile got a little heavier by the day. She blames Lisa for not trying harder to make her stay, for watching her leave with empty eyes, not even a kiss goodbye. But there's no point in placing blame now. They can only go forward.

"Being apart didn't put a pause on our lives, you hurt me. I don't want to pretend it never happened, we can't just _start up_ again. It just wouldn't work." Jisoo's voice slips into sorrow. "We can't just switch on and off. We're in love."

Lisa's breath catches. "We're in love."

Jisoo turns her head slightly, waiting for Lisa to tilt into her. Lisa kisses her once, twice: short, reverent. Jisoo can't help but think she likes this better; their love contained and careful instead of overflowing from them warm and reckless. There is something to be cherished in the way Lisa pulls herself away, caresses Jisoo's bottom lip with her fingertips and not her tongue, smiles beautifully with love burning in her eyes instead of the back of Jisoo's throat. They are not teenagers anymore, and Jisoo is carving her devotion into a river, leaving the flame and sparks in the past. It is sweeter, she decides, rebuilding slowly.

"Try with me," Jisoo whispers, "that's all I ask."

Lisa kisses her jaw. "I'm trying. I promise."

Jisoo feels old love in her bones. Her skeleton is gnarled with fidelity the way each tree twisting above the rooftop of her childhood home grows thick and strong, feeding from the residue of forgotten days. She will love Lisa always. Despite the time apart, despite the just-closed wounds, Lisa still fits into the gaps between her ribs perfectly, noiselessly.

Lisa smiles with everything she has. Like sunlight tenderly awakening every leaf in spring, Jisoo can feel adoration in her veins, her heartbeat, the pads of her fingers. Singing muted and dulcet, she lets Lisa hold her and falls back in love.

They spend the rest of autumn inside, and Lisa's laugh keeps Jisoo warm from the other side of the couch. The first snow blankets her town in shimmering white and soft shadow, then seeps into the frozen ground.

"I love you," Jisoo says, tucking a piece of her heart into each word, letting herself mean it. Lisa's eyes shine, impossibly radiant. With her hair fading to white, she is gorgeous.

"Come here," Lisa replies.

Blanket falling from her shoulders to the floor, Jisoo crosses the distance between them, carefully settling onto Lisa's lap. Lisa grips her waist, gazing up at her like she's dizzy and drunk in love. She traces Lisa's nose, the slope of her smile, the long, graceful curve of her neck. Her hands settle, deliberate, to cradle Lisa's face, closer than they've been in years. The tremble of Lisa's eyelashes is mesmerizing, devastating; Jisoo's breath falters as Lisa melts into her touch. So slowly it aches, she leans in.

Lisa's lips are familiar in their sweetness, unknown in their newfound shyness. When she presses closer, it's with a muted sense of wonder, struck by how real they are, how close.

"I love you," Lisa murmurs back between kisses. Her hair has slipped from its loose knot. Jisoo can't get enough of it. "I love you, I've loved you."

The studio is busier in the spring, and Lisa can't get away quite as often. She calls almost every night. Sometimes they talk until they doze off, sometimes they rustle around in near-silence, sometimes Jisoo will sing as Lisa falls asleep.

"I'll take you to the sea," Lisa promises. "It's crowded, but I know all the best spots."

When she's able to visit, Lisa buys hard candies to surprise Jisoo with. They pour the candies into a bowl on the kitchen counter and Yuno eats most of them, grinning stickily. With snatches of jazz drifting down into the street from Yuno's open window, they sway on the porch swing and kiss as the fireflies flash to life all around them. They walk in the park, rustling through the dewy grass, pinkies touching. Jisoo plucks tiny white flowers out of the grass and tucks them into Lisa's hair.

"I can't let you see my place yet, you have to visit in the summer," Lisa insists, beaming. "The little boy from downstairs brings me flowers in the summer. If you're lucky, he might give you a rose."

Lisa buys her a sweater the color of lilacs. It gets easier to tell her _I love you_ every day. Jisoo lets the words rise up in her chest before saying them, and they form a new groove on the flat edge of her tongue.

Jisoo arranges a picnic in the gazebo at the park. After the last crumbs are swept away, Chaeyoung's girlfriend pours champagne into plastic cups. "To spring!" she cheers.

Leaning against Yuno, Jisoo watches fondly as Lisa laughs with Chaeyoung. Yuno sighs contentedly beside her, and she lets her head drop onto his shoulder. Crystal rays of afternoon sun settle all around them, striking Lisa's cheekbones with a flash of pearl. She is stunning.

She catches Jisoo's eye and beams. _I love you_ , she mouths.

Jisoo is home, she is happy, she is in love. She smiles back at Lisa, tender.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! comments and kudos are loved and cherished forever


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